


TIFU by buying a bottle of wine at the movies

by TheSunlitGarden



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/F, Mentions of alcohol, Vague AU, please don't be angry both ships are valid, this is almost entirely Moicy, this was written for my Moicy loving best friend though so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 05:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSunlitGarden/pseuds/TheSunlitGarden
Summary: Angela attempts to buy a bottle of wine and things just go downhill from there.





	TIFU by buying a bottle of wine at the movies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my best friend, who loves Moicy. The Pharamercy isn't... REALLY there? But if you ship both maybe you'll enjoy it. I don't know, I'm neutral on the ship.
> 
> And, as is probably obvious from the title, I stole this premise from a TIFU post on reddit that I thought was adorable/hilarious and would make great "imagine your OTP" fodder. The title of the fic is the same title as the post if you're curious and want to look it up.

“Two glasses of wine, please.” She asks, not quite looking up at the person at the counter as she pulls out her wallet and holds out her ID.

“I’ll need to see two IDs, ma’am.” The woman across from her says, stopping Angela in her tracks.

It’s been a long day; long enough for Angela to not want to walk all the way back, up all the theater stairs (as Moira had insisted they sit in the back), bother Moira for her ID and then come all the way back. She hesitated, not usually the type to lie but she wasn’t really breaking any rules-- certainly not any laws. They were more than old enough for some wine with their evening movie.

“Well, actually, to be honest...” She hesitantly met the other woman’s eyes. She was younger than her, dark brown eyes with black hair framing her face. _Fareeha_ , her name tag read.

“I’m embarrassed to admit it but I’m here alone, watching the film by myself.” Her hesitance to lie came off as embarrassment at least.

Fareeha’s eyes softened, a look of sympathy on her face. Angela felt a tad guilty but she continued.

“Yeah, I know.” She laughs lightly. “Sad, isn’t it?” Angela fidgeted, not quite meeting Fareeha’s gaze.

“It’s not sad.” Fareeha insists, comfortingly. “We’ve all been there.” She offers, and Angela isn’t sure how much is customer service and how much is the woman actually wanting to console her.

“Mm, it’s pretty lonely, honestly.” She remembers long nights in the lab, living and breathing her work despite herself. Ironically enough it was what caught Moira’s attention in the first place. Just being with her made Angela make more of an effort to find time away from work, taking Moira out on nice dates being for herself as much as for Moira. (And as hard as Moira could be to pry away from her work it was clear she enjoyed it, too.)

Fareeha frowned lightly, looking at Angela for a moment before a look of resolve settled into her features. Angela didn’t have time to figure out what that could mean before she found out.

“I’ll join you. I get off work in just a couple minuets; what theater are you in?”

Oh. Oh _no._

“You don’t have to do that.” Angela insists, mind racing and not nearly prepared for this.

“I know I don’t.” Fareeha replied, all confidence and a touch of determination. “I _want_ to.”

How could Angela turn that down? Embarrassed, lonely Angela with no one to spend her evening with.

“I...” She searched for an excuse, fumbling over her words into silence as she finds nothing. She could come clean about it all but somehow that seemed even worse. Where would she even begin, how could she justify it? Just thinking over it in her head made her feel like a crazy person. She’d probably be kicked out, and how would she explain that to Moira?

“I’m… in theater three.” She finally answers, feeling backed in a corner.

How would she explain _this_ to Moira?

“Excellent.” Fareeha beams. “I’ll see you soon, Angela.”

Angela withdraws her hand, finally realizing she’d been holding her ID out all this time. Fareeha isn’t offering her a drink and honestly at this point all she wants to head back to the theater and hide.

She smiles, nodding. Her mind too tired and buzzing to find the words to reply with and scurries off back to theater three.

She practically races up the steps once she’s in the theater, latching onto Moira’s arm somewhat dramatically as she sinks back down into her seat.

“We have a problem.” She hisses, quiet as she can.

Moira just raises an eyebrow at her. “Clearly.” She replies, eyes not so subtly glancing down at Angela’s hands-- hands that don’t contain any wine glasses. There’s a hint of curiosity in Moira’s look, not that Angela needed any further prompting. The gravity of the situation has finally started to hit and Angela isn’t sure who else to turn to now.

“The girl-- the one at the counter, she needed your ID, and I didn’t have it, so I told her I was alone; Moira, she wants to watch the movie with me. She feels so bad for me she wants to watch the rest of the movie with me.” The panic in Angela’s voice is palpable, the look on her face clearly asking for help.

Moira just looks at her and does her best to keep up. She can see it, she supposes. The sad, tired eyed woman ordering two wine glasses for herself alone on a Saturday night. How sad.

“Well then,” Moira starts calmly, and Angela looks at her with baited breath for whatever solution she seems to have. “I suppose it would be better not to be sat next to me when she shows up.” Moira tells her, unbothered. If anything Angela could swear she seemed _amused_.

Angela’s thoughts come to a halt.

“What?” She asks, a touch too loud. Someone shushes her.

“It would be incredibly rude to lead this poor girl on and have her show up only to find you on someone else’s arm.” Moira pointedly glances down to where Angela’s hand is still on her.

“Seriously, Moira? I’m not kidding.” Angela says, not sure if Moira doesn’t believe her or--

“Neither am I.” She smiles-- no, _grins_ at her. It hits Angela all at once. Moira believes her; and she thinks her predicament is hilarious.

“The movie is already half over, Angela. You surely don’t have much time. Better find another seat. Quickly, now.” She waves her off, amused smirk not leaving her face for an instant.

Angela is annoyed enough to not want to sit next to her now, though the feeling quickly drains out of her as she stands back up from her seat and realizes the alternative. She stands there, feeling frozen for a moment, before steadying herself in resolve.

The movie was half over. She could do this.

She steadfast turned away from Moira, not wanting to look back and see the look on her face, and sat down in the first empty seat she found.

It feels like she’s barely settled in when she catches sight of someone walking into the theater from the corner of her eye. She’s a few rows closer to the front now, she can’t help but see the alleyway entrance, and as she glances over she realizes it’s Fareeha. They must lock eyes, though it’s too dark for Angela to quite tell, as Fareeha’s posture changes as she catches sight of her. She waves, two wine glasses in hand, and from somewhere behind her she hears the bark of laughter that can _only_ belong to Moira.

Moira, who must be _watching her_. Angela wishes the seat would just swallow her whole.

Fareeha comes over, sitting down in the seat next to her and placing the wine bottle between them. Good god she bought them a bottle of wine. An entire bottle. Angela can just imagine Moira’s delight at her predicament; Angela can feel her face going red just thinking about it. The darkness of the theater is her only saving grace in this whole pridiciment.

Fareeha smiles at her, perfectly pleasant and charming, as she pours them both a glass. She doesn’t say anything, respecting theater policy, but looks at her warmly as she hands her her glass. Angela takes it, smiling through her mortification. Fareeha raises her glass slightly, holding it out to her and Angela realizes what she wants after a moment. She isn’t sure she can go any redder as she brings her own glass forward, lightly clinking them together.

Behind them, a flash goes off. Fareeha looks immediately annoyed, turning to look behind them but it’s too late. The theater is dark again and no one is holding up their phone.

“Phones should be turned off, we don’t allow photography during the shows...” Fareeha mutters quietly, perturbed. “They’re lucky I’m off shift.” She lingers looking behind her all the same though, searching for the culprit.

Which is the one thing Angela can be thankful for, because she knows _exactly_ who that must have been and they _certainly_ weren’t snapping a photo of the screen. Angela has never wished so badly for the ground to open up beneath her.

Fareeha is thankfully silent through most of the film, too much a stickler for the rules to try and make conversation with her. If Angela were single and not so painfully aware of her bastard of a girlfriend sat a few rows behind them she might even be enjoying herself. Fareeha’s a nice presence next to her, laugh warm and always courteous and ready to pour her more wine. It’s only that Angela drove tonight that keeps her from indulging and trying to drown out her embarrassment.

The movie ends, _finally_ , and she feels almost guilty for being so thankful about it. The lights come on and Fareeha turns to her, smiling.

“I had a good time. What about you?” Fareeha asks her, not looking to be in any rush.

Oh no. Of course; of course she’s not just going to wave and take off on her. Angela pitched herself as a sad, lonely woman and Fareeha is off work for the night. Why didn’t Angela think about _any of_ _this_?

“Good! I mean, I’m glad. Me too. Had a good time, that is.” It takes all her self restraint not to look behind them into the back of the theater where she’s sure Moira is still sat.

Fareeha smiles, all patience. Angela can only imagine what a mess she must seem to her. No doubt wont have to imagine once she’s back with Moira and hearing all about it. She knows she’ll never live this down.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Fareeha tells her. Guilt settles deep in the pit of Angela’s stomach, Fareeha is so sweet. Too sweet to deserve this farce.

Angela stews, silently, considering if she should say anything. What she even can say at this point.

Before she can come up with anything though Fareeha is reaching over, taking her wineglass from her and beginning to clear up.

“I have to get my bag from the back, I’ll meet you in the lobby though, alright?”

“Sure!” Angela answers, eager to get going and replying before the implication of the words sink in. She wanted to meet her in the lobby. Oh god.

Fareeha was already standing though, wineglasses in hand, and giving her one last smile before walking away. Leaving the bottle.

“Oh, Fareeha!” She calls out after her. “You forgot the wine.”

Fareeha turns back to her, smiling warmly and looking fondly at her. She shakes her head.

“Keep it.” And she continues her way out of the theater before Angela can protest; the look on Fareeha’s face keeping Angela silent.

“You two are _adorable_.” She suddenly hears behind her, startling her.

She can _feel_ her face go red again as she finally turns to face Moira.

“ _You._ ” She starts, not having forgotten about the laughing or the photo from earlier.

“Hm, at least you’ve _finally_ brought me some wine.” Moira comments, looking to Angela’s hand still lightly resting on the bottle. Angela snatches it out of Moira’s reach in some sort of defiance. She’s not getting her cake and eating it, too.

“Best not keep your date waiting on you.” Moira says, looking back to Angela’s face and seeming entirely too unbothered by the evening’s turn of events.

Angela frowns, glaring at Moira as she goes over everything in her head. She just has to make an excuse to leave and she’s home free. She can scold Moira and make her delete the picture in the car. Moira’s right about one thing; she doesn’t have time for this right now.

She huffs, picking up her bottle of wine indignantly and marching out to the lobby.

She’s only stood there for a moment when she hears a much kinder voice call her name. She turns, smile only a little forced, and greets Fareeha. For the first time that night, really. She’d never even really introduced herself, just held out her ID and read Fareeha’s nametag.

And it hits her then, Fareeha stood in front of her with a jacket on and a backpack slung over one shoulder, that she hadn’t even said her _name_ until she was leaving the theater. What Fareeha must think of her Angela can’t imagine. The only saving grace of the situation is that there wont be a second date, because if this even counted as a first date it was a rather awful one for poor Fareeha.

Fareeha who didn’t know her and didn’t need to do anything to try and make her feel better, but went out of her way to try and lift her spirits all the same.

“Thank you.” Angela blurts out. “It was sweet of you to join me like that; you really didn’t have to.” She adjusted the strap of her purse on her bag, sincerely touched at her kindness despite the insincerity of the situation.

“Like I said, I wanted to.” Fareeha shrugged lightly and Angela made a note to at least call and compliment her to the manager; it was the least she could give her.

Moira was casually stood in the lobby on her phone, and Angela’s lips tightened at the sight of her. Right.

“Well, I appreciate it. I hate to take off, but I really should be going; I have work in the morning.” Angela offered, and for once she was telling Fareeha something true.

Fareeha laughed good-naturedly. “I know how that is.” She seemed so at ease Angela was almost jealous.

The way she looked back down to Angela (and for the first time that night Angela realized how much taller Fareeha was than her) made her bristle slightly, it was the same look she had when she’d first offered to join her for the evening.

There was no way she was giving Fareeha her number. Absolutely not. She didn’t have it in her to lead her on any further than she already had; let alone the enjoyment Moira would probably find in it.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Fareeha says instead though, and Angela is relieved. Almost forgets the awkward fact that Moira is with her. It’s catching sight of Moira watching her, close enough to hear them, with an eyebrow raised that pulls her back to the reality of the situation.

Angela laughs, more nerves than anything but she hopes it comes off as flattery despite herself.

“You’re sweet, but really, you don’t have to.” She says, but Fareeha insists.

“Nonsense. It’s late and I’m headed home too.” Fareeha is unperturbed, apparently the type hard to shake once she got an idea into her head.

Angela spares one last glance over to Moira, looking like the cat who got the canary, before answering her.

“If you insist.” She smiles wearily, walking out with Fareeha. She doesn’t worry if Moira is far behind, almost distracted from her own guilt with the satisfaction of the idea of making Moira walk home. (She knows she wont, but she indulges in the thought of it for just a moment-- as if Moira is solely to blame for all of this.)

The walk back to her car is a short one, at least.

“Thank you again.” Angela tells Fareeha, unlocking her car and feeling suddenly thankful Moira didn’t drive. How would she have explained _that_?

Fareeha waves off the thanks, still unaware and far kinder than Angela feels she deserves at the moment.

“Listen, Angela.” She starts, just before Angela can get into her car.

“Don’t let it get you down, alright? You seem really nice, you’ll find someone.” Fareeha reassures her, and Angela is almost glad she’s not single because there’s no way she’d deserve her. (Though that ignores the paradox of the situation entirely.)

Angela smiles, genuinely, and thanks her again before getting into her car and watching Fareeha walk off across the parking lot. She looses sight of her, car parked much further away than her own, when a sudden tapping at the passenger side window tears her out of her thoughts.

She jumps, startled, and turns to find Moira. Of course, who else was she expecting?

Angela narrows her eyes, fixing Moira with a look and not unlocking the car. She winds down the passenger window instead.

“Oh, did you want a ride home?” She asks, not serious but not letting her in the car so easily. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to walk home. You’ve been acting like that’s what you want.”

Moira doesn’t even flinch, just laughs and reaches through the window to manually unlock the door before Angela can stop her or roll the window back up.

“Strong words coming from a cheater.” Moira tells her, smooth as ever.

“I didn’t-- that’s not fair.” She fumbles, having a hard time defending herself. To her credit Moira doesn’t seem bothered by the idea. Which, if Angela is being honest with herself, bothers her more than--

“That picture!” She says, suddenly remembering it. “Delete that.”

Moira pouts, the look almost condescending on her face. “Don’t you at least want to see it?”

“No.” She replies, sure and stubborn. She buckles up and starts to drive all the same, doesn’t have time to sit and argue, wouldn’t know how to react if Fareeha caught sight of the two of them like this on her way out.

“A pity.” She says, buckling as well yet making no effort to reach for her phone. She’d threaten to make her sleep on the couch tonight if she actually thought that Moira wasn’t just going to dive back into her research once they got back.

There’s a stretch of silence.

“Oh, come on.” Moira says, finally. “You have to admit it’s funny.”

“It’s not!” Angela replies, surprising even herself with the outburst.

Moira just watches her for a brief moment before speaking. “Just because you feel guilty doesn’t mean it wasn’t entertaining.”

Angela stews; Moira knows all too well how to read her. Sometimes it’s a blessing and other times it’s downright infuriating.

“ _I’m_ not the one who made you make up some ridiculous line about being single.” Moira not-so-helpfully reminds her.

Angela doesn’t want to hear it, but she doesn’t feel she has the right to say that. So she remains silent. Moira just lets out an amused huff of laughter.

“And you don’t have to act so pleased about it.” Angela let’s slip, her own emotions getting to her.

Moira just fixes her with a look, as if she’s some fascinating subject she’s researching.

“Do you even _care_ that I told some younger woman that I was single when you weren’t around?” Angela asks, not even sure herself what she’s trying to get at now. Moira laughs, again, and Angela wants to shake her.

“Did you want me to yell at you?” Moira sounds positively bemused.

“No, I--” God, what _had_ she wanted? For Moira to come up with some sort of solution to bail her out and fix her problem for her? To make a scene and let Angela look like the victim in all this?

“Ugh, what wine even _is_ this?” Moira asked, tearing Angela out of her thoughts and leaving her confused for the barest moment.

Moira was holding the wine bottle, inspecting it and even taking a whiff of it.

“Hey, no open alcohol-- I’m _driving_!” She couldn’t leave Moira alone for a moment.

“I was _going_ to forgive you but now I’m not so sure...” Moira mused, screwing the cap back on and putting it in the cup holder between them.

“Can you just,” Angela took a breath, trying to collect her thoughts again. “Can you please just be serious right now?”

She must have looked as tired as she felt, because Moira goes silent and fixes her with a look that’s nearly sympathetic.

“Oh, Angela. You get far too caught up in your own head sometimes.” Moira reaches out, gently resting a hand on her arm. Angela relaxes slightly, hadn’t even noticed how tense she’d gotten.

“You need to let yourself fail now and again.” Moira tells her, and Angela stays silent. Lets herself think about it. For all that Moira delights in messing with her she could also read her like a book, and, well, Angela had to admit that maybe she needed to hear what she had to say sometimes. Good and bad.

A moment passes between them, comfortable silence as Moira draws her arm back and Angela tries to allow herself to listen.

“You’re still deleting that photo, though.” Angela says eventually, tone far lighter than it had been.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning.” Moira replies, that same unbothered tone creeping back in, and Angela can only groan exaggeratedly in response.

Moira rubs her shoulder sympathetically, as if she isn’t the one responsible; and yet Angela finds herself unable to muster the same annoyance as before.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant just to be silly, goofy fluff but I wasn't sure how to end it, so literal months after I first wrote it I ended up just ramble-writing with it at 3am and going wherever it took me, which ended up being Moicy-dynamic stuff.


End file.
